Copyright Holder:
Robert Wilkinson

A wartime legacy of friendship with France

The sacrifice of a young Australian binds two families and two countries for seventy years.

John Anthony Howard Wilkinson was the eldest boy in a family of seven. He was shy and gentle with an easy laugh.

After completing high school at Sacred Heart College, in South Australia, he worked as a clerk at Elder's Trustee and Executor Company in Adelaide.

When War broke out, John enlisted in the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF). He saw active service as a Flying Officer in 463 Squadron, which sustained the highest damage (by size) of any Australian squadron. One in two airmen died.

In 1944, on his fifteenth mission, John was killed in France. He was 20 years old.

John’s death came as a shock to my family. My grandmother, Betty Meegan, was 14 when her brother was killed," I suppose I didn’t think that he wouldn't come home".

My great-uncle, Fr. Robert Wilkinson (Bob), the youngest child, remembers the day the telegram arrived with the news that John was Missing in Action. Six months later it was followed by a second telegram: Presumed Killed in Action.

Thousands of Australian families received the same devastating words. Most never knew the circumstances of how their sons, fathers and brothers were killed. I imagine theirs to be an unbearable grief. The uncertainty of not knowing.

But John’s story doesn’t end here. What happens next is a powerful testament to the kindness of strangers.

In the year after the war, a letter arrived. It was from the International Red Cross in Geneva, notifying John’s mother where his plane had come down and confirming the sorrowful news that all the crew had perished.

Amazingly, the Red Cross enclosed a memento, a page torn from John's pocket diary. It read, in John's distinctive handwriting: WILKINSON J.A.H SKIPPER, along with his services serial number.

My great-grandmother, Eileen Wilkinson, also learned from that letter that Monsieur Joseph and Madame. Irene Grebil, of Montbronn in Lorraine, France had witnessed the plane come down in a Vosges Forest .

This is how my family came to learn the details of John’s death.

On the night of July 28, 1944, John, the pilot of a Lancaster Bomber was returning from a bombing mission over Germany when his plane was shot down by German anti-aircraft fire. The Lancaster dived nose first into forest on the French-German border killing all seven crew on board.

A Frenchman, M. Joseph Grebil, who lived in the nearby village of Montbronn, set out at first light to look for the wreck before the official German investigation team arrived.

This area of occupied France, the region of Alsace-Lorraine, was especially contested having switched hands between France and Germany for centuries. The German Army was trying to enlist villagers like Joseph as German citizens. But the villagers identified themselves vehemently as French.

At considerable personal risk, Joseph searched the pockets of the dead airmen for any identifying information and came upon a scrap of paper in the pilot’s flying-jacket breast pocket. M. Joseph kept the paper until after the war and then through the Allies, after D-Day, it eventually found its way to the International Red Cross and from there, home to John’s mother in Dulwich, Adelaide; shortly after the war had ended.

Letters were exchanged for a while between the Australian and French families. The Australian letters written in English, the Alsatian letters written in French. A number of food parcels were sent by the Wilkinson family, who understood that the circumstances were near famine in post-war Europe.

Given the language barrier, the correspondence between the families lapsed after a year or two.

But, in 1946 another letter arrived from the cousin of the plane’s navigator Norman Gelder. The Gelder Family of Tasmania had received a similar identification note written by their son that Joseph Grebil had also rescued. The cousin, who was working at the United Nations Postwar Relief Administration had been to visit the Grebil family and provided an account of the village. He noted catching a train from Strasbourg.

With that letter, the 11-year old Bob made a pact to himself that if he ever got to Europe, he would track down the Grebil Family and thank them.

34 years later, Bob now an ordained priest, visited Europe for the first time and travelled from his conference in Sweden to Strasbourg in north-east France with nothing more than the scribbled names of French towns from a 1946 letter."I thought to myself, everything changes except the railway", says Bob. 'I scoured railway timetable after railway timetable until eventually, to my delight, I saw it! Platform 5, 3.30pm. I bought a ticket and climbed aboard with no idea where the train would take me.”

The line ended and a woman at the station was puzzled by Bob’s enquiry.

"MONTBRONN? Ah, prenez le taxi”. He took the taxi, an old war-time relic with black and white hatching, and traveled through a forest at sunset. Bob arrived to find that Montbronn was like a postcard of a perfect French village.

"I am looking for the Family Grebil” , he told the innkeeper. "Monsieur, we are all Grebil or Schneider in this village," she retorted. On further questioning, her eyes lit up,“ Ah, Madame Irene! 71 Rue du Stade”.

The following morning , Bob arrived on the doorstep of Madame Grebil. He was not certain that Joseph and Irene would still be alive but was hopeful from the postwar letters that their daughter, Genevieve, might be in residence. She had been eight years old in 1946 and perhaps she would remember the story of the Australian plane and the letters from Adelaide.

Completely unannounced Bob knocked on the door. An old woman answered and, in his schoolboy French , Bob introduced himself:

"My name is Wilkinson, Madame. My brother John was killed near here." She gazed at him for a moment, and then caught the words. After 35 years without contact, she said simply, "Entrez, VOUS ÊTES EN FAMILLE!", " Enter, YOU ARE FAMILY!.” And then wrapped her arms around Bob, kissing him on both cheeks.

They shared their account of the intervening years. Their daughter Genevieve had tragically died in 1949 but two other children, born after the war, arrived to the house with their families. Afterwards, M. Joseph took Bob to the crash site only a mile away. The young priest said a quiet prayer in the forest. And the following day the villagers came in large numbers to the village church where Bob gave his first mass in halting French. A Mass of Thanks.

And so continued a loving solidarity between two countries and two families, an exchange which now spans 70 years. Bob has re-visited Montbronn a dozen times, as have two of his elder sisters, Moira and Philomena. And now the ensuing generations have taken up the baton with nieces, nephews and great-nieces and great-nephews visiting the place where John died and meeting the French family who cared enough to complete his story.

The younger Grebils visited Australia a few years ago arriving on South Australia's hottest day on record (and refusing the offer of a swim for grave fear of Australian sharks).

Norman Grebil, the son of Joseph, lobbied for years to have a French monument erected at the crash site, in honour of the men who lost their lives. You see, for the Grebil Family as for so many French people of that era, those seven young Allies died for the liberation of France.

In 2004, the 60th Anniversary of the crash, an engraved memorial was unveiled by the French authorities, with representatives from the Australian Embassy in Paris and French Soldiers, as well as descendants of both families, in attendance. A village band played and school children sang to remember the wartime sacrifice and its legacy; an enduring bond of friendship.

I am yet to visit the crash site. But I have been told that it is a peaceful place. Decades later, there is still a clearing in the wood, about the size of a house, where the forest has never grown over. The dappled light is soft and delicate and in the wintertime, pools of water collect in the indentations where the four engines of the Lancaster made impact with the earth.

It's the place where John, a young man with his whole life ahead of him, a beloved older brother and the uncle we never met, came to rest.

"He was the best-looking of us boys’, says Bob, ‘And a great bloke. We all just loved him.”

My gratitude to my family for allowing me to place John's story in the public domain and my special thanks to Fr. Robert Wilkinson for his editing and encouragement and for sharing what is essentially, his story too.

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Comments

Rob

War seems far away until it becomes personal. I will remember this story.

David Wilkinson

Great research and great story, thank you Beth. Probably the first time I've ever seen a photo of Uncle John, my first thought was how much Dad (Leo Dominic) looks like his older brother. Amazing story, the world can be a great place sometimes.

Sandra

Thank you Beth. I, like so many, thought I knew the Uncle John story. I now have a much better understanding and I am able to tell my kids about their Great Uncle John.

John Anthony Howard Wilkinson

Fantastic to read all this, despite being named after the man, I never really knew much of his story and the following relationships. My very best thanks to everyone involved, especially Uncle Bob for his ongoing interest in this.

Stewart

A terribly sad but amazingly uplifting story of the human spirit. We need more stories like this to anchor us in this modern world.

Grace

This is one of the most moving pieces I've ever read and a story I will never forget. Beautifully captured, thank you Beth

Nigel

What a wonderful story, and so beautifully written.

Genevieve Meegan

So beautifully captured Bethy - like cousin John, I thought I knew that story but now feel I know it completely ...and I don't think I'd even see a photo of Uncle John...a really important piece of writing particularly for our family. thank you.

Andrea

Thank you Beth, what a sad and yet beautiful storey. Isnt it amazing how people can connect despite the barriers of language and distance. A great example of human kindness.

Alex Smee

How wonderful that the connection has continued over all that time. Special for all of you and John.

Jane Juniper

Well done Beth - what a wonderful tribute. I've been there and you've captured it perfectly. Hope all is well with you. x Jane (Kenneally) Juniper

John Kenneally

Thank you Beth for laying out this story so completely. John was my uncle too and I thought I knew the story until I read your account. I was moved. I hope Norman gets to read this. He's a great fella. Thank you again Beth. Great stuff.

Clancy

What an astonishing story of persistence and honour across time and space.